Until the Sweet Hours of Our Special Morning
by neropanchi
Summary: Where there's war, there's death. Harry Potter might not cope with death well, but someone else copes with it even worse.


**Title:** Until the Sweet Hours of Our Special Morning

 **Description:** Where there's war, there's death. Harry Potter might not cope with death well, but someone else copes with it even worse.

 **Prompts:** My potion was Calming Draught. My prompts were (word) special, (word) Envelope, (Setting) The Ministry of Magic

Pairings: A little Drarry action. (This one's for you Corvey! 3)

His friends had told him that the battle had taken days on end to finally finish, but to Harry it had just lasted a second. From the time he had seen the tears in Molly Weasley's eyes at the loss of her son to the moment he had no longer been able to feel Voldemort's presence within him; it was all merged together. During the night was when he thought about it. It was then that he remembered every single second in graphic detail. During the nightmares was when he was given to see the horrible crimes he had committed. Every night he would have a different scene etched into his brain. The following morning it would linger like a gift to be remembered. Most times, however, he woke up in the middle of these nightmares shouting out into the darkness, ready for battle that had long since concluded.

On an evening that had started like so many others Harry sprang up from his lying position with his heart racing, his arms flailing, and his voice caught in a scream scream that gave _himself_ chills. He had a spell on the tip of his tongue, and despite his unfocused and blurry vision, he was ready to fling it out into the dark of the room without regard to who or what he might hit. The image of Fred Weasley's lifeless body was still sharp and clear, haunting him with the painful flood of horrendous detail. His hand flailed out with the rest of his arm in an automatic jerking reaction, making contact with something in the dark. His mind vaguely registered the contact, still too much in a frenzy from his nightmare to analyze what had happened in anything resembling rationality.

"Potter, it's fine. Don't tell me you're crying." The tone was joking, clearly showing it wasn't intended as a malicious taunt.

He pivoted towards the voice, his arm still extended.

"Stuff it, Malfoy," answered Harry, smiling.

Harry dropped his wand. It landed soundlessly on the bedspread, and he brought his hands to his face, gritting his teeth. He was too on edge. He had been this way since the Battle of Hogwarts had ended. He let out a sigh, before looking up.

He was met by the sight of Draco Malfoy, his _Auror partner_. Bloody hell. He had forgotten that he had asked Malfoy to stay with him for the night. Harry could still taste the unique burn of firewhiskey in his mouth from his earlier drinking. He'd asked Malfoy to stay the night with him just because he was lonely. He'd wanted company and he had been drunk. There were many excuses Harry could tell himself for why he had asked, but there seemed to be even more excuses for Malfoy to come up with for why he had agreed.

'We didn't do anything, _luckily_ ,' Harry had added in his brain. They'd done nothing but sleep. Asking Malfoy to stay the night with him meant that he would have to confront Harry's nightly problem up close and personal, which was something Harry hadn't fully realized until now. In the back of Harry's mind, he had hoped that company would ease the constant nightmares, although, there was nothing about Malfoy that screamed comfort.

Draco's thin, blonde hair framed his face, making his features seem even sharper. He was covering his nose with his hand, eyes were narrowed in concern. Why was he covering his nose? Harry's thoughts had to have been easy to read on his face because Malfoy gave him a shrug before moving his hand. Harry's gaze immediately found the trickle of blood.

Malfoy gave Harry an uncharacteristically apologetic smile. "It's no big deal, really. You hit like a girl."

"Sod off," said Harry, rising. "You're just sore because you didn't see it coming."

Malfoy rolled his eyes, smirking.

Harry left the bed to shuffle into the bathroom to grab tissue paper. When he returned, he found Malfoy in the same position he had left him in. Malfoy was wearing Harry's borrowed nightshirt that draped over his body. The nightshirt was too large for him, and it made his figure look terribly small in comparison. . Any comfort that Malfoy may have had being in a nicely oversized nightshirt, however, was unfortunately ruined thanks to a smattering of bright red blood that had dribbled down from his injured nose.

Harry handed the man the roll of bathroom tissue, and Draco took it with a yank in order to take care of his bloody nose—the one Harry had caused. Merlin. He had punched Malfoy! His nightmares were really getting out of hand. He'd have to see a Healer about that as soon as possible.

They'd had their differences, but truthfully, he no longer saw Malfoy as his enemy. He hadn't ever since the day that they had arrested their first dark wizard together. It had been a strange relationship between the two, yes, but, it had been one he was quite fond of. It had started as intense dislike in their school days, and had now turned into something more companionable and comfortable. Yes, they had gotten into some fairly epic rows, but it hadn't been as serious as their Hogwarts days; they didn't mean it anymore.. Everyone seemed to accept that. They were the best Aurors in the business. As long as they were doing their jobs well, why would anyone feel the need to complain?

Normally, his nightmares were his problem and his problem alone, but now he had selfishly dragged Malfoy into it. He had injured Malfoy because of his own paranoia. He shouldn't have called Malfoy. Ron, Ginny or Hermione would've been better, but he hadn't wanted to bother them.

"Harry."

Harry looked up.

"Stop trying to guilt yourself," continued Malfoy. "I said I'm fine. Your nightmares, however, are not fine."

"It's nothing, Malfoy. It doesn't happen often." A lie. "Normally, I can keep it under control." Another lie, and it came as easily as the first. "I'm sorry for punching you."

Harry cast a quick _Tempus_ to check the time. It was too late to go back to sleep; it was almost 5. He let out a quick sigh and decided to start preparing himself for the day, choosing to ignore Malfoy's comment.

"Harry," Malfoy called out.

The black-haired wizard headed into the bathroom, flicked on the faucet and proceeded to brush his teeth. He nearly gagged at how the minty taste mixed with the hours-old remnants firewhiskey. It was absolutely dreadful, and to top it all off, his head was throbbing.

"Potter!" Malfoy's voice yelled from the bathroom doorway, directly behind Harry.

The shrill shriek that escaped his throat as he spun around was the most embarrassing thing he could ever remember doing.

"Bloody hell, Malfoy!" Harry demanded. "Do you want to scare the magic out of me?"

He spit into the sink and washed his face with a towel. When he turned back around he found Malfoy with his nostrils plugged with tissue and his arms folded. Malfoy's face wore its all too familiar scowl as he growled, "Harry," for the third time.

"So, we're just going to ignore what happened?" Malfoy asked, tone flippant. "Act like a pair of sodding three-year-olds that think if you don't talk about it mum won't notice you stole the last cookie?"

"That was the plan." Harry pushed past Malfoy so he could get through the door. He headed to his closet and took his robes from the hanger. "I told you I was sorry for punching you already," he said as he started to get dressed, not really caring if Malfoy was in the room or not.

"I'm not talking about the damn punch, Potter. You know what I'm talking about." Malfoy exhaled noisily. He continued in a somewhat softer voice. "Your nightmares. They're pretty bad."

"Why do you care, Malfoy?" Harry knew he sounded bitter, but he hated it when people talked to him like that. He disliked being treated as though he were a child that needed to be held and comforted, even though a part of him desperately wanted just that.

"I used to have them about the war, too."

Harry finished arranging his robe just in time to really focus on what Malfoy had just admitted. His head shot up to look at the blond, still dressed in the bloodied night shirt. " _Used_ to?"

Malfoy nodded. "I got them to stop."

"How?"

Malfoy was silent for too long. Harry felt his stomach tense up. He was hiding something, Harry just knew it. Suddenly, Malfoy sighed, and then walked over to the chair where he had left his auror robes the previous night. He reached into the pocket, pulled out something and held it to his chest.

"What is that?" Harry asked but Malfoy just shook his head fiercely.

"It took care of the nightmares."

"What is _it_ , Malfoy?!" Harry was practically yelling now.

Malfoy walked slowly towards Harry. The tissues were still plugged in his nostrils and his shirt was still bloody.

Harry held out his hand as Malfoy reached out. He felt something cool and glasslike touch his palm. He looked down.

"A potion?"

"Calming draught. It calms a person down after they have suffered shock. I was prescribed this soon after the war. I'm surprised no one gave one to you."

Harry had heard about the calming draught. With Hermione being a mediwitch, he'd heard her complaining about the effects it had on patients. One of the things he remembered was how highly addictive it could be.

"A drop before you sleep." Malfoy looked at him with intensity before continuing: "No more. We wouldn't want our little Potty to become an addict now, would we?"

As soon as Harry thought about responding, an owl swooped in the bedroom, casually letting an envelope land in Harry's hand. He decided not to continue the conversation and opened the letter.

"Well, duty calls," Harry said.

He stepped past Malfoy and headed out of the bedroom.

* * *

"Remind me to never let you negotiate ever again," Draco said hotly as he strode into his shared office in the Ministry of Magic.

In his infinite wisdom, Harry had almost managed to get the both of them killed. Harry Potter _always_ had to run in and play the hero, save the day, rescue the fair damsel, and leave Draco with the paperwork. Draco let out a tired sigh as he plopped behind his desk.

"It wasn't that bad," Potter said glumly.

It had been, however, very bad indeed. Potter had managed to talk the wizard into trying to blow up every living being in the Leaky Cauldron. Luckily, Draco had managed to get off a well-timed stun to incapacitate the insane wizard before he could do so.

"You should have let me talk to him, Potter. You know you're not good with communication. You're just lucky no one was harmed."

"I _get_ it, Malfoy," the messy, black-haired wizard muttered. His face was buried in a green scarf.

Draco felt his blood boil. He knew Potter could be an insufferable git at times but he had thought at least after what had happened that morning, they'd gotten past all of that. The swelling in his nose had managed to go down, and the bleeding had stopped before he had even stepped through the doors of the ministry. It was like nothing happened, but he knew that it had. He knew that in his partner's right pocket, where he normally kept his wand, there was a small vial that would control his life. Why had he given Potter the potion? Why? He knew it was dangerous. Draco, himself, had just gotten over the withdrawals.

He supposed that he just didn't want Potter to go through that anymore. He knew how the nightmares took over your life; he knew that they made you paranoid and always on edge. You never felt comfortable or safe. When Potter had asked him to keep him company, he had been appalled. Here was a drunk Potter practically telling him to sleep with him, little had he known that Potter had meant actually sleeping. He almost chuckled at the thought, only Potter.

"Malfoy?"

He looked at Potter, who was playing with a vial of calming draught. "You know, Hermione once spoke to me about this stuff. She said it did more harm than good. " He looked at Draco.

Those eyes of Harry's seemed to remove the layers that masked Draco's thoughts and feelings. Those eyes seemed to analyze his soul, as cheesy as it sounded it was true.

"Potter…" Draco tried to tell him to stop, but Potter was already on his feet.

"You were addicted to this, weren't you?" Potter asked softly. Harry got up and slowly closed the distance between them.

"That doesn't matter. The point is, I haven't had a nightmare since then."

Draco sighed, closing his eyes. No. This wasn't about him, it was about giving Potter the peace he needed.

"You haven't had a _dream_ since then." He felt Potter squeeze his hand before he even realized he was shaking.

"I'm sorry." Draco heard himself say the words but didn't feel his lips moving.

"For what?"

Draco reached towards Potter's hand where he held the potion loosely in this free hand. He took it and stared at it. This stupid potion. It had taken something away from him that he had thought he'd wanted to lose. There was nothing worse than losing your dreams. He threw the vial at the floor and watched it shatter into pieces. He felt the salty tears drip down his face and he looked into Harry's face.

"It's fine. There are other ways to get through my nightmares," Potter whispered. "Losing one's dreams, I can't even imagine how that must feel."

Draco could do nothing but stare at the teal blue liquid spreading across the tile flooring.

* * *

"Are you sure you still want me here?" Draco asked as he watched Harry put on a nightshirt that was too big for him. Harry turned to look at him with an exasperated expression.

"Of course, I'm sure, Draco. For the fifth time. You can sleep here as long as you want. I'm here for you.

Harry climbed into the bed and sank into the sheets. He was smiling at Draco, telling him it was fine, that he wasn't alone anymore.

Draco cast a quick spell that turned off the lights, before he settled next to the black-haired man.

"One would think that's an indecent proposition," Draco said.

Harry's nose wrinkled. "The world doesn't revolve around you, Malfoy," he said, smiling.

Harry whispered a quick goodnight before letting out a deep sigh and falling asleep. Draco let his lips form into a pleased smile and soon after that, drifting off. A memory of his first case passed through his mind while he was asleep. Perhaps he could dream again after all.


End file.
